


Something to make me feel alive again

by ac0lyte



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Pogtopia Wilbur, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has Horns, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Will update characters as story progresses, and so is Tubbo, it says rpf but this is about the characters, not the ccs who portray them!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ac0lyte/pseuds/ac0lyte
Summary: On one dark and stormy night, Tommy and Tubbo decide to mess with the spirit world. And everything goes horribly wrong.
Relationships: ALL PLATONIC, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, we respect boundaries here
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	1. Evocation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone :D Here's something I came up with the other day. I hope you all enjoy!  
> This is strictly about the Dream SMP characters and not the CCs that portray them, if it crosses any of their boundaries it will be taken down immediately.

As dark and stormy nights go, this one didn’t seem particularly different to Tommy. In fact, if anything set it apart, it was just how _boring_ the evening had been.

He and Tubbo lounged in the living room, each of them laying on their respective couches. Tubbo was tapping out some message on his communicator, and the incessant noise probably would have irritated Tommy if it wasn’t quieter than the rain outside. Tommy, on the other hand, had been throwing a ball in the air and catching it for the past five minutes or so, trying to chase away the mind-numbing boredom with repetition. It wasn’t working.

“I’m fucking bored,” he broke the silence, catching the ball for a final time and looking over at Tubbo.

The other boy glanced in his direction, then back at his communicator, with no change in expression. “Me too.”

Tommy made a face. “Well don’t just sit there, let’s do something. Who are you talking to?”

“Ranboo. He’s coming into SMP lands tomorrow,” Tubbo yawned, putting down his communicator and sitting up. “We could just go to bed instead of being bored?”

Tommy studied him. He did look quite tired, in all fairness. There were bags under his eyes - but those were always there - and his small smile looked like it was taking a toll on him. He ran a hand through his slightly messy brown hair, grimacing as he touched the stumpy horns on the top of his head. “I think I’ll go to bed, yeah.”

“No, no, it’s only,” Tommy glanced at his watch. “It’s only eleven! Don’t be a pussy, man. Let’s do something stupid.”

Tubbo shook his head, then settled back against the couch, crossing his arms. “Fine, let me think.”

Tommy pumped his fist in the air and sat up, mirroring Tubbo’s position. He thought for a minute, but all that really crossed his mind was how great it would be to not be bored. Lightning flashed outside, and Tommy’s face lit up.

“We could try to get struck by lightning,” he suggested.

“That’s _too_ stupid, Tommy. We will definitely die. I’ve got a better idea.” A grin spread across Tubbo’s face. “Remember Bloody Mary?”

“Oh, come on, that’s fucking stupid. What are we, twelve?” Tommy rolled his eyes. He had expected better from Tubbo.

Tubbo shrugged. “I don’t know, Tommy. Maybe you’re just scared. That’s okay.” He fake-yawned and stood, stretching his arms in the air. “I’ll just go to bed.”

Never one to be called a pussy, Tommy stood immediately, his eyes flashing. “I am not scared. No old lady is gonna come through and kill me, anyways. And I’ll prove it!”

He started for the bathroom, and Tubbo followed close behind. There was no way Tommy was going to allow his reputation to be tarnished like this on a normal Wednesday night. He turned to face Tubbo as he shut the door behind him, giving him a pointed look.

He blew out the torches in the bathroom one by one, then positioned himself in front of the mirror, eyes barely making out his silhouette in the dark. His darkened face stared back at him, almost daring him to do it.

Surrounded by the darkness like this, and with the storm continuing to rage on outside, Tommy couldn’t help but feel a little creeped out. He tapped his fingers idly on the counter and gave the door a quick glance, then looked back in the mirror. _It’s only a game_ , he reminded himself.

He steeled himself and took a deep breath, concentrating on his reflection in the mirror. 

“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary,” he chanted. His voice sounded a lot shakier than he thought it would.

Thunder rumbled loudly outside.

Tommy held his breath.

...Absolutely nothing happened.

“See! I’m no pussy,” Tommy exclaimed, turning to the door to leave. He smiled at the thought that Tubbo would probably be much more scared than he was, and began to prepare a few choice insults to tease him with.

He made it about two steps before he felt something in the air undergo a sudden change.

It almost had a thicker quality to it, making it harder to breathe, and it pressed in on Tommy like he was at the bottom of the ocean. He froze, and slowly turned his head to look at the mirror, his mind racing with possibilities of what he would see there.

The mirror seemed to distort in the middle, rippling and flowing like a viscous liquid. Coming through the mirror was a hand, covered in complete darkness, reaching out with its fingers splayed.

Tommy screamed and bolted for the door, twisting the doorknob feverishly. It wouldn’t budge. Tubbo laughed on the other side.

“Tubbo, you dickhead, move! There’s something fucking _in here_!” Tommy cried, hitting the door with his shoulder.

The force holding the door shut released, and Tommy flung it open, breathing heavily. Tubbo’s face was twisted in concern, and he peered over Tommy’s shoulder to see what had happened. His jaw dropped.

Tommy turned, backing up so he was at Tubbo’s side. Both of their gazes locked on the thing coming through the mirror, unable to look away. It was almost hypnotizing.

The figure was now almost entirely through the mirror, the darkness dripping off of it like honey off a spoon. It fell onto the bathroom floor and into the sink, then quickly sizzled and disappeared.

The figure planted its two feet on the ground and stood there for a moment, not making any intimidating moves, but not retreating either. It was tall, and in the darkness, it looked even taller, eclipsing the two cowering boys.

Slowly, it reached a hand up to its face and physically pulled off some of the darkness. Behind it were two piercing brown eyes and a pair of distinct glasses.

Tommy’s breath hitched. It was Wilbur.

He scrambled for the door and shut it, holding it tightly and gesturing frantically for Tubbo to join him. _How the fuck is he here? His ghost already exists here, and we weren’t trying to summon_ him _._

Tubbo joined Tommy at the door, bracing himself against it for an impact that didn’t come, thank God. “What do we do!?”

“I don’t know!” Tommy hissed. “He’s not supposed to- how did we-” he groaned and slammed his head into the door, hoping that would knock an idea, or at least a grasp on the situation, into his brain.

“He’s...not attacking us, at least?” Tubbo murmured.

“I just don’t get it!” Tommy whispered, ignoring Tubbo’s optimism. “Are we on drugs? Tubbo,” he placed a hand on his best friend’s shoulder and locked eyes with him, “are we doing drugs? It’s really cool if we’re doing drugs, but if we aren’t-”

“I don’t remember taking any!” Tubbo said, a hysterical note in his voice. He was wild-eyed, and he grasped Tommy’s sleeve tightly. “Maybe it’s a trick of the light. We must be seeing things.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe he’ll go away if we just don’t think about it,” Tommy mused hopefully, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

As if just to spite Tommy, a knock came from the other side of the door. The boys froze and looked at each other as the voice of what was once their older brother asked, “Tommy? It’s quite cold in here. Do you have a coat?”

Tommy’s mouth fell open, and he stared at Tubbo, trying to come up with an answer. Tubbo seemed to be doing the same, his brow furrowing into that face he liked to make when he was thinking.

“What do we do?” he said in a low voice.

“I don’t know. Give him a coat?” Tubbo suggested.

“We can’t just _give_ some fucker who just crawled through our mirror a coat!”

“It’s Wilbur!”

“Thank you, Tubbo,” Wilbur chimed in from the other side of the door.

“Shut up! You’re dead!” Tommy retorted, slamming his open palm on the door. Silence settled over the three of them, and Tommy sighed. “Fine. We’ll hear him out, okay?” Tubbo nodded in agreement.

Slowly, Tommy released his hold on the doorknob and eased the door open. Wilbur stood in the middle of the bathroom, and as the light fell on him, the boys saw more and more of the state he was in.

He was wearing his old trenchcoat from the Pogtopia days, or at least, a ghostly version of it. Tommy still had the real thing, a memory from exile that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of despite how much he wanted to. Those glasses Tommy always teased him about rested on his nose, and his hair was wild, unbrushed for quite a long time. The ends of his legs faded into transparency, and completely disappeared a little before his ankles. His torso was ripped apart in the middle, the wound from his death remaining even into the afterlife. Tommy could see right through it to the other side of the bathroom.

“W…” Tommy couldn’t get the words out, his throat tightening at the sight of his brother. His brother as he remembered him, and not in a ghostly, amnesiac state.

Tubbo did it for him, placing a hand on Tommy’s arm comfortingly. “Wilbur?”

Wilbur swiped a final bit of the darkness off of his glasses, readjusted them on his face, and gave the boys a smile. It was a smile that promised independence, rebellion, and freedom, but hid underneath it layer upon layer of destruction and malice. “The one and only.”


	2. Conjuration

A coat and some tense greetings later, the three of them were back in the living room, Tommy and Tubbo sitting on one couch and observing Wilbur on the other. He didn’t seem...different. He looked perhaps a little ridiculous wearing two coats, but otherwise was engrossed in touching his fingertips together, his eyes widening at his newfound ability to make physical contact.

Tommy wiped his hands on the fabric of the couch. Why was he sweating? It couldn’t be nerves. This was his brother! Hadn’t he spent many a sleepless night wishing he had Wilbur back, knowing he could fix things?

Despite that, there was still something heavy in the pit of his stomach, gnawing at him with an odd tenacity. It surged whenever he looked at Wilbur, so he kept his eyes on the ground, trying not to think.

Tubbo was the first to break the awkward silence, clearing his throat and beginning, “Wilbur, it’s, uh...nice to have you back!” His uncertainty was thinly veiled, but Wilbur evidently didn’t notice, looking up with bright eyes.

“It’s great to be back. It was getting boring, hanging around in a void with dead people,” he muttered, with an obvious glance at Tubbo’s horns.

“How are you  _ here _ ?” Tommy blurted out, saying what they were all thinking. “ _ Why _ are you here?” He looked up at Wilbur, who stared back at him with those piercing eyes Tommy remembered so vividly. The eyes that told him he’d never be President, and the same eyes that handed him the Presidency. Just so he could rip it away.

“I don’t really know,” Wilbur said, leaning back into the couch. “There was just a- a space opening up in the void, and some old lady looked like she wanted to get through, but I’ve spent enough time there that I just…” he gestured for emphasis, snatching something invisible out of the air. “Went for it. Especially when I saw it was you on the other side, Tommy.” He smiled again, and it sent a chill down Tommy’s spine. He wanted to shrink in on himself.

Wilbur glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at the boys. “How long have I been gone?”

“Months,” Tubbo said in a low voice, one that contained all the heartache and suffering that had been inflicted since Wilbur died.

“How has L’manburg been?” he asked.

“Uh…” Tubbo looked at Tommy, his eyes troubled.

“Don’t worry, I won’t blow it up again. I’ve had time to think, and I think I might’ve taken it too far,” Wilbur reassured them. He noticed their nervous glances at each other. “Seriously, I won’t.”

“That’s not the issue, Wilbur,” Tubbo turned back to him. He took a deep breath, then put on his President face, one Tommy had seen him use many times before when he needed to be strong. “...L’manburg’s gone.”

Wilbur’s face fell. He reached up and adjusted his glasses shakily, taking a breath and closing his eyes. After a moment’s silence, he opened them. “What happened?”

“Well, let’s see,” Tommy started, suddenly impassioned. The anger he’d held onto about his brother’s death for the past few months came rushing forward all at once, spilling out of his mouth. He leapt to his feet, clenching his fists. “ _ We _ had to clean up  _ your _ mess, and then Dream convinced Tubbo to exile me!” A bit of fury crept into his voice, and he shot Tubbo an apologetic glance. He wasn’t mad at Tubbo. He was just mad at the world. “I suffered out there for weeks, while  _ your _ stupid ghost was no help at all-”

“My gh-?”

“And!” Tommy steamrolled ahead, taking a few steps toward Wilbur, “when I finally got out of there, Techno and Phil decided they wanted to blow up L’manburg again! L’manburg’s gone now! Phil’s off doing fuck-all with Techno up North, and nobody’s on  _ our _ side anymore.” Tommy spat the last few words, using the ‘our’ with full intention. It was just him and Tubbo. They only needed each other, but in all honesty, a few extra allies wouldn’t hurt.

“...We got the discs back, though,” Tubbo added quietly, a small note of joy in his voice. “And locked Dream up.”

“Yeah. We didn’t kill Dream, Wilbur, you know why? Because he said he could bring  _ you  _ back.” Tommy was suddenly aware of his legs shaking, likely out of equal parts fear and anger. He retreated to the couch and sat back down, earning a comforting shoulder pat from Tubbo. “We didn’t kill him for you,” Tommy repeated, quieter this time.

Wilbur was stunned. He tapped his fingers on his thigh in some sort of rhythm, a habit he’d had as far back as Tommy could remember. He was thinking, and thinking hard. In fairness, it  _ was _ a lot of information to process, but that didn’t make Tommy any less irritated regarding his absence.

“My ghost?” he repeated.

“We call him Ghostbur,” Tubbo explained, speaking so Tommy wouldn’t have to. Tommy appreciated that. If he spoke right now, it would probably end only in shouting and tears he wasn’t quite ready to shed (though he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready). “He’s you, but he doesn’t remember anything and doesn’t like to talk about you. He just kinda...hangs out.”

“Hm,” Wilbur said, still thinking. His eyes flashed back and forth across the room, from Tommy to Tubbo to his own hands and back to Tommy. “Sorry, it’s just...my nation. It’s gone?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Tommy spat, keeping his eyes down. “Total destruction, even of yourself?”

“Tommy…” Tommy wasn’t looking, but he could feel Wilbur’s cold, sickly sympathetic eyes on him. “That was my decision. I did it for L’manburg. But I can admit when I’m wrong, and I’ve had a long time to think, so, yes, you’re right. It was idiotic of me to do.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy could see Wilbur’s fingers twitch. They used to twitch like that in the presence of the button, as though it called to him like some sort of divine being commanding him to do its bidding.

“Whatever,” Tommy finally managed, keeping his voice controlled. He wanted to give Wilbur a hug and scream at him and cry all at the same time, and it was getting difficult not to. So he clutched his folded hands tighter together, bitten-down nails digging into his skin.

“Well, we can’t let people see you,” Tubbo decided, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “They’d freak out. You aren’t the most popular around here. I’m assuming you can’t...leave…?”

“Oh, no. I don’t want to go back,” Wilbur muttered the last bit, like he was afraid someone would hear him.

“Alright. Uh, you can…” Tubbo glanced at Tommy, but upon seeing his tense posture, decided not to ask. “You can probably stay with us. Sleep on the couch, or something.”

“Thank you, Tubbo. And...I’ll try and make up for things.”

If Wilbur responded to that visually, Tommy didn’t see it, keeping his eyes laser-focused on the ground as Tubbo pulled upwards on his sleeve. He stood, allowing Tubbo to lead him away, ignoring Wilbur’s friendly “goodnight, Tommy!”

It wasn’t until the door shut behind them that Tommy finally looked up, tears already beginning to well up in his eyes.

“What are we supposed to do now?” he whispered, his voice trembling a little. He hated it. Hated that he didn’t understand why seeing Wilbur made him so upset. Hated how emotional this was making him.

“I don’t know,” Tubbo admitted quietly. As Tommy’s face screwed up with emotion, Tubbo gently took his hand and sat down with him on the edge of his bed. “Maybe he wants to make amends?”

“Yeah, right,” Tommy laughed. It was a hollow sound. “I bet he’ll just blow up our house or something.”

Tubbo smiled. “Or start L’manburg Two.”

“Or make us do ghost rituals.”

The two of them giggled about their own jokes, and Tommy’s rampaging emotions gradually slowed. His brother was back, and that was troubling - but his other brother had always been here, even when he wasn’t physically. It was just the two of them, and it always would be, even when they had a dead man hanging around in their home.

“Ohhh, we’re gonna have to figure out what to do with him,” Tommy whispered, his face falling again.

“We can worry about that in the morning, big man,” Tubbo said, patting him on the shoulder and standing. “Get some rest, okay?”

Tommy nodded. “Okay.”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

Tommy laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes. He wished it would fall on him and that he could fly up through it at the same time.

“Goodnight, Tubbo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Again not sure how I feel about this chapter, don't know why my writing feels off for this story LMAOOO I promise my other stuff is better! Anyways if you enjoyed please consider leaving a comment, cause I really like knowing what people thought, but obviously don't feel obligated to! Thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the next one :]

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I don't know how I feel about this, but I'll definitely write more if people like it. I have a full thing outlined, so let me know if you'd want to see more by leaving kudos or comments. They really help me know what people like, and inspire me to write more!


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